Mind Control Devices
by LovinTheTan
Summary: Bakura hated cell phones.  Thiefshipping


_This is pretty much a true story embellished to make it thiefshipping. Suspension of disbelief - midnight isnt that late, but I wanted to keep some parts accurate to the event._

_Written by Sunny, beta-ed by Planet  
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of YuGiOh, though gods know I wish I did. _

* * *

Bakura hated cell phones.

They were loud and generally bothered him when he wanted most to be left alone.

Not to mention they startled him when they went off. _Nothing_ startles the great king of thieves and gets away with it.

This time he was sitting with a leg comfortably draped over the arm of his favorite plush red armchair, drinking hot tea and reading the daily obituaries. He had no idea what time it was, but it was dark outside, so he nearly jumped out of his wits when his phone, right next to his ear, started serenading him at full volume.

He dropped the paper in his panic and wheeled around, trying to find the source of that infernal noise. After frantically digging though the pockets of the coat that had been draped over the chair, he managed to pull out the offending item and silence it.

Bakura narrowed his eyes as he glanced around the room, hoping and praying to all the gods that _no one_ had seen that undignified display.

His dark eyes caught sight of the clock underneath the television set.

11:41.

Who the hell called _anyone_ at this time!

Not that he was caught off guard or anything.

With a scowl, he flipped his phone open and checked for the name of the fool who dared to call him at bloody 11:41 at night.

Marik's name flashed on the display. Figured.

In all honesty, he wasn't interested at the moment in anything Marik had to say. Nor was he at all in the mood for anything to do with the blonde.

So, sniffing in irritation at being disturbed, he tossed the phone across the room, a dull thud announcing its sudden contact with the carpet.

For a moment, the white-haired teen dully contemplated just heading off to bed and pretending to have been asleep just in case his roommate (with benefits) came back, but quickly thought better of it. He wasn't tired, he didn't really care if Marik got annoyed with him for ignoring him, and he hadn't finished reading his obituaries.

Speaking of which…

He did a few comical head turns, searching for the paper on the chair or his lap before discovering the heap of papers on the floor.

His eye twitched and he stared blankly for a good minute at the mess that had been his neatly folded newspaper not two minutes ago.

That idiot roommate of his was going to die someday very soon.

Once more, he played with the idea of just leaving everything until tomorrow, but he just sighed and stood, cracking his back with a yawn.

Bakura hung up his coat where it belonged, not eager for another incident like that and not particularly caring for the slovenly look it gave his armchair, then set to work on reorganizing his poor paper.

Halfway through, his bloody phone vibrated, making him jump _only_ an inch or so this time. Frowning, he dropped what he was doing and strode over to the stupid thing sitting alone in the middle of the living room floor.

His other reason for hating cell phones: they were mind control devices. Perhaps it was the strange, fascinating sounds they made, or maybe it was how everyone was told the stories about the people who actually got emergency calls, but everyone (even the great thief king) always felt compelled to check the phone, no matter what noise it just made.

Bakura didn't get calls from anyone but Marik. It pissed him off that he had to check the caller ID anyway. And texts? Even when it was four in the morning and he was trying to catch some shuteye, if his phone vibrated, he just had to read the damn text. Never mind that the only person who would dare text him at four in the morning was his roommate. Never mind that his roommate was only a few feet away from him (often snickering quietly into his sheets). And never mind that he was _not_ going to answer it anyway.

They were mind control devices. No wonder Marik excelled at their diabolical use. One of these days, whoever was brilliant enough (which certainly left out the possibility of it being Marik) to think up such a widely used contraption was going to take over the world by hypnotizing the masses with the cell phones everyone used. And he hated knowing he was going to be one of the billions of idiotic people under that man's control. Why hadn't he thought of inventing that?

He closed his eyes for a moment while he wondered, like usual, why he bothered to check his phone anyway. Then he grabbed it and flipped it open a little more violently than before and saw that, apparently, he had seventeen new voice messages.

Bakura narrowed his eyes dangerously, growled, and dropped the phone, not bothering to even close it this time, before stalking into the kitchen to make himself some more tea.

The only thing worse than cell phones were cell phone voice messages. What was the point? Trying to get his attention and have him answer faster? That was what text messages were for. Or were voice messages meant for people to try and say why they called him? That was what calling back was for.

The stupid idea was outdated ever since cell phones were invented, and all it did was take up space on his phone and tick him off every time he got a reminder of how many new ones he had piled up.

And maybe they wouldn't be so bad if that wasn't what they did. They piled up.

First he would get a call at an inconvenient time, and the caller (generally Marik) would leave him a message. He wouldn't have time to check it, so he would clear the reminder and just go about his day. Then he'd get another voice message that he couldn't listen to immediately, so he'd forget about both of them. And after he had five or so, he wasn't going to listen through all of them – some of them severely outdated – just to get some stupid information he could just as easily get by calling the person (still almost always Marik) back. Then he'd end up with seventeen new voice messages, and they were all, more than likely, from the same person.

Bakura scowled as he dipped a random teabag into the hot water.

A loud vibration sounded from the other room and his eyes widened and stared at nothing for moment while he collected himself, determined not to break anything in the general vicinity.

This time he decided to resist the mind control device. Physically turning his back to the living room where the offending object was lying, the white haired teen lifted the tea bag from the mug and tossed it into the trash in the corner.

He ignored the nagging feeling he had in his gut and went to fetch some milk from the refrigerator when he heard the phone vibrate again.

With a snarl, Bakura dropped what he was doing again and stormed towards the unassuming contraption sitting in the middle of the floor.

There it was again. No one could ignore cell phones for long. They called to people like evil creatures from the Shadow Realm. Bakura vowed to himself as he checked the display that he would send this particular device to the Shadow Realm, too, if it made another sound that night.

"2 new text messages"

Both from…surprise, surprise, Marik. Of course.

He played with the notion of just turning his phone off without reading them, but the temptation to know what sort of secrets lay within the texts was far too great.

"Did u get 2 my msg"

_Of course I didn't, you idiot._

It wasn't even worth letting himself get annoyed with the text shorthand and lack of proper punctuation anymore. It was far more distracting that the blonde would even dare to ask him such a stupid question. Honestly, did Marik not learn anything from being around Bakura? Did Bakura _ever_ listen to voice mail?

Refusing to grace this message with a response, he decided to move onto the other one so he could end this and get back to his tea.

"Plz! U hav 2 listen 2 it"

The thief scowled. Fully aware (and hating it all the while) that he was being manipulated, he opened up the menu and went to his voice messages.

Gods. Seventeen. Seventeen bloody new voice mail messages. This better be pretty damn important.

Keeping his thumb poised on the seven key, Bakura listened to the first few seconds of each before he erased them. It took him five minutes to get through all the ones preceding the newest and he was quite sure that by now his tea was getting cold and the milk was getting warm.

Finally, he heard Mariks voice begin speaking for the seventeenth time.

"Bakura. Baku-u-ra! Baku-u-u-ra!"

Oh great. Marik was already being obnoxious and using that foolish singsong voice of his.

"Hey!" the voice message continued. "Why didn't you answer the phone! What were you doing, jacking off?"

Bakura resisted the temptation to snap the phone in two, find the stupid blonde, and shove the pieces down the idiot's throat.

"You need to have some decency. At least answer the phone and _pretend_ you aren't doing anything sketchy. It's not like you could be out doing anything right now. I mean, I have people I can hang out with, but you have, like, no friends."

Bakura glared at the cell in his hand. From what he could tell, he had more "friends" than Marik did. Unless he counted those countless mind slaves he had acquired over the years.

Was it just him, or was that damn tomb-keeper being more of a loudmouth than usual?

"Answer the phone already!"

_Gods, this isn't a landline. I can't bloody hear what you're saying as you're saying it._

This whole situation was getting old fast. How long was this message, anyway?

Bakura was ready to take his knife to everything around him by the time Marik got the point at the very end of the four minute, infuriatingly insulting and almost completely pointless voice mail.

"Dammit! I'm cold! I forgot my key! Why didn't you answer your phone and open the door!"

With that, Bakura had had enough. He smashed his index finger into the seven key to delete the message before it had finished and threw the phone away from him.

What the _hell_ was the purpose of that message and why was it imperative that he listen to it when Marik could have just as easily and much more quickly texted him to open the door?

Never mind that Marik forgetting his keys all the time was really starting to piss him off. His tea was cold. He had just wasted ten minutes listening to meaningless things his idiot roommate had to say for no good reason at all. Was he just plain stupid, or did he do all this just to piss Bakura off? At this point, it honestly didn't matter. He was going to throttle that blonde the second he got inside whatever the reason.

The white haired teen stalked up to the doorway, fought his way angrily through the locks and violently threw the door open to reveal Marik leaning against the frame with a vaguely dazed grin on his tanned face.

Before Bakura could even reach out an arm to viciously grab the other, Marik thrust himself at him, successfully causing them both to topple to the floor and knocking the wind out of Bakura.

He meant to throw the blonde off him as soon as he recovered his breath, but, once again, Marik didn't give him the chance to even raise his hands.

Warm lips crashed into his, almost startling Bakura. Almost.

This display wasn't going to make him any less irritated with the other. Not only that, he could smell the alcohol on Marik's breath. How and where he got it was a mystery to him. The fool couldn't steal anything without using the Millennium Rod en masse if his life depended on it.

He frowned as best he could given the circumstances and again made to push him off.

Marik didn't even seem fazed by the lack of response. Instead, he actually lifted himself up a little on his arms and began licking and biting at Bakura's lips.

Without thinking, the thief opened his mouth partway and granted entry to the blonde's tongue. For a second, he allowed Marik to taste him and have the upper hand before he subconsciously pressed his own tongue against the other. The two appendages slowly curled around each other and intertwined with one another for a few moments. Relaxing. Bakura closed his eyes.

Then snapped them open again. Dammit! He was mad at him! Why was his roommate so distracting?

He lifted his arms to try and shove the blonde off for the third time, but, once again, Marik was unconsciously one step ahead of him and had chosen that exact moment to close the distance between their bodies again and begin rocking his hips slowly against the white haired teen's.

Bakura automatically moved his hips into the movements and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling.

Then he remembered his original objective and opened them again without breaking the slow kiss.

For a moment, he stilled, deciding what course of action to take. Then he looked at the peaceful face of his roommate directly in front of his. His hazy purple eyes were closed, too.

He suddenly craved to see them open again with that spark of fire they had in them when the two of them were in the throes of ecstasy.

Briefly, he wondered if his roommate was doing all this on purpose. If so, damn, he knew Bakura well.

The tea would have to wait.

Wrapping his pale arms around the blonde's waist, he wrenched his mouth away and flipped the two of them over.

Without a pause, he brought his lips to Marik's again with much more force and possessiveness this time as he ran his cold hands up the other's chest, bringing the lilac hoodie up as he went.

He felt the lips move slightly under his and he pulled away to see Marik looking up at him with a grin plastered across his face.

He knew that haughty look.

Yep. This was all intentional. The blonde knew him better than he liked to admit.

Refusing to admit that he had just been manipulated, Bakura returned to claiming the blonde more violently than usual. He hoped it hurt. Nothing short of what that bloody tomb-keeper deserved.

Bakura blamed the cell phones and their damn mind control. He made a mental note to destroy them all when he took over the world…

…But, just now, he was busy.


End file.
